The Gathering Storm
by amour de amour de amour
Summary: The Golden age has barely begun and the teenage monarchs are struggling to stay on their feet. Edmund and his siblings must find a way to put a stop to an avenging Lord and his followers, all while they begin to question everything they knew about Narnia and its past. Will they succeed, or will Narnia fall prey to a threat they didn't even know existed?
1. Clouds of Ash

_**A/N: I hope you read this because it's the first chapter and you're obligated! Well, not really. But still, hear me out this once. This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fic, as I've really only ever done one-shots. I'm trying my best to plan things out right and all so that things fit together, but this IS my first time and there is a chance I might screw up. So bear with me please! I hope you enjoy and reviews are always welcome. **_

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia or anything relating to it**

**Part I**

**Chapter One: Clouds of Ash**

_**Storm clouds gather  
Dusk approaches quickly now  
It's potent allure perpetually growing stronger  
The barometers spiked**_

A revolution is at hand  
Pearl droplets fill the air  
Dancing tears from Heaven  
It weeps, weeps for injustice

And the serpents mass in the darkness of the night  
Storm clouds gather  
Dousing daylight  
Compelling,  
Compelling thought, compelling night

Storm Clouds Gather, Mark Scotting

Prologue:

There's a moment in every battle where the brave soldier no longer feels so brave. A moment where the worthy cause isn't really worth it anymore. When the fear flows almost as freely as the blood and the courage wavers like the teetering flagpole.

Cian thought he was brave. He thought he was a soldier, too. But he was just a kit who thought that peace was achieved by bloodshed and loyalty was earned by fear. He now knows that there's nothing peaceful in what surrounds him and that not wanting to be turned to stone by Jadis is not the same as accepting her leadership.

Maybe Cian will die. Maybe he will just lie in the middle of the battlefield forever, listening to the clang of teeth on metal and feel the sting of claws on skin.

Maybe Cian will live. Maybe Aslan will hear the cries of the fallen creatures who died in his name, in his honor, and come to their rescue.

Cian doesn't think he is brave. He doesn't think is a soldier, either. And so he just lays there and listens. Everything sounds funny, like his head is being dipped in and out of water. He notices that he can't really breathe. He doesn't feel scared though, just a little bit numb. Cian can feel the warm, sticky stuff running down his side but it doesn't seem to have a source. He's just bleeding. Just like how he can't breathe. What should strike panic in him is nothing more than a casual, passing thought. Nothing of importance.

_When Aslan bears his teeth winter meets its death._

Despite all that is taking place around him, Cian can't help but notice that for the first time that day, he doesn't feel cold. Is this what warmth feels like? No, it's not as pleasant as he thinks it should be. He is sweating and feels woozy. He knows what hot feels like, it's searing, like the bitter soup Maud makes. But in his short life, he's only ever known the sting of ice and the burn of fire.

Cian wonders what the sun felt like before the Witch brought this wretched winter over Narnia. He wonders if he will ever see a Narnian summer. A summer with the warmth of the sun on his back and fresh air-air that doesn't make him feel like his chest is freezing-in his lungs. Or a spring with cherry blossoms and sweet scents. Maybe even a nice autumn, with beautiful colors and falling leaves. But never, ever again does he want to feel the bite of cold winter air on his skin. He could live a thousand scorching summers before he ever wanted to see the endless white of the Witch's domain once more.

Cian knows that he is not brave. He knows he is not a soldier, either.

And it's there the young fox still lays, smelling the sweetness of cherry blossoms instead of the metallic scent of blood permeating the air. If he tries, he can imagine that the cries and screams are those of children playing in piles of fallen leaves like the ones he saw in drawings.

_When he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again._

And when Cian stares up at the sun, it isn't bluish in the frozen haze like it usually is. It's a bright orange, like his fur, almost as if someone had lit it with a flame. He doesn't feel hot or cold, but some nice in-between he's never experienced.

He turns his head to see if anyone else notices this strange phenomenon. When it's clear that he is alone in this discovery, Cian figures it's because he's dying. Just as he is about to close his eyes forever and open them to Aslan's country, he catches a speck of gold on the horizon.

Cian has seen white snow and red fire and today, an orange sun-but never before golden like this. A tawny figure steps further into the fray, and Cian wants to call out for him to stop. He knows that that pretty coat of fur will be stained with red if he comes any closer.

The creature steps forward and Cian opens his mouth to warn him. Before he can make a sound, a loud ringing knocks what little breath Cian has left out of his lungs. He realizes that the ringing is emanating from the mouth of this lovely creature, and that it's not ringing at all. It's a roar, so grand and holy that it cannot be heard by his own humble ears. For a moment, all fighting ceases, all noise silences. Slowly, as Cian closes his eyes, the ringing dulls and a soft voice calls to him. He doesn't know what is being said to him or why, but what he does know is that a great lion is standing before him and that for the first time in his existence, Cian's whole being feels _warm_.

_Six Years Later_

_Cair Paravel_

_Clang! _Peter practically tossed the small knife he was using back into the glass dish. He had been using it to spread jam onto his toast-now considered a Narnian delicacy, thanks to Edmund. The sound of silver on glass clinked noisily, prompting Susan to give her brother a rather nasty look.

"Honestly Peter, I would have thought after _all these years_, you would have at least picked up a few table manners. You didn't act this way last night at the banquet-I don't see the need for you to act like a barbarian _here,_" Susan sighed, pushing a lock of raven hair out of her face.

A gentle breeze was trickling in through the doors opened to the terrace, but a particularly strong gust of wind blew her hair into a frenzy every once in a while. This was probably a large cause of her agitation. That, and the letter she was holding in her hands.

The three present monarchs were sitting-save Susan, who was pacing off to the side-in the little antechamber just off of the main part of Peter's solar. The nook opened out into a roomy veranda overlooking the Eastern Ocean. The Kings and Queens often sat for meals on the High King's veranda, as it was the largest, but the grim weather had the siblings opting to eat indoors. Instead of eating breakfast in the Great Hall with its bustling servants and flaunted grandeur, Peter, Susan, and Lucy had chosen to eat in the privacy of their own chambers for a change.

Peter had decided to go out of his way this morning to annoy his Sister.

"You're a KING of Narnia for goodness' sake! Must you really-oh Peter, please DON'T!" Susan just about shrieked at the sight of Peter sucking the jam off his fingers almost peevishly. He sent Susan a look that said, "What're you going to about it?"

Now, Peter didn't always act like this. In public, he was the image of all things stately and fine, whereas behind closed doors-

"Ugh, Peter, I swear sometimes you're worse than the chimpanzees!" She dismissed him in disgust with a wave of the parchment in her hands.

The High King certainly got a kick out of irritating his sister. He could be kingly and such when it came to attending banquets and leading soldiers into battle, but when he felt like it, Peter found quite good sport in pestering his siblings. Particularly, Susan.

Susan wasn't always so dour, either. While it was her job to keep everyone in line-her siblings _and _Narnia-the Queen could set aside her austerity and smile every now and again.

Susan finally sighed and sat down, still clutching the letter. The table had been laid meticulously with fine china. A silk tablecloth stained with little blotches of jam here and there-much to Susan's exasperation-drooped over the side of the table. Servants brushed in and out soundlessly, reluctant to disturb the monarchs' "peace". They weren't acknowledged beyond a preoccupied "thank you" or "more wine, please", but they really didn't seem to mind.

Instead of engaging in the trivial arguments of her eldest siblings, Lucy was absentmindedly sipping her tea while gazing out onto the Eastern Ocean. The only response she gave to Peter and Susan's bickering was a roll of her eyes.

Peter, it seemed, had decided that poor Susan had had enough aggravation for the morning and showed off some of his sorely missed manners.

As Susan nibbled distractedly at a scone, she kept glancing at the paper that she had rested on the table beside her plate. Her blue eyes stormed away as they kept darting back towards the letter, her fingers tapping in her lap nervously.

Peter gave the usually calm and collected Queen a puzzled look as he followed her gaze. Lucy, too, had taken notice of her sister's odd behavior and was pulled from her silent vigil. Before Susan could react, Peter had snatched the letter up from under her troubled gaze.

"Peter, I-" Peter held up his hand to silence her and began to read. His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the letter, but didn't look as antsy as Susan about what it contained.

When he finished reading, Susan looked up at him expectantly, chewing at her fingernails. "Well?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, picking up his fork and returning to his breakfast. "I don't know what you're so riled up about Su, this has happened before," he shrugged again.

"What is it?" Lucy inquired, bewildered.

Susan ignored her and leaned forward in her seat. "But, Peter! What if it's different this time?"

"What?" Lucy repeated imploringly.

The youngest monarch was once again paid no heed. "Relax, Susan. Lorcan always has a conspiracy theory. No one really listens to him anyway," Peter replied.

"_Lorcan? _That annoying man we met at the summer festival last year? The one that kept talking down to Peter?" Lucy couldn't help but feel a flit of amusement through her frustration at the memory. The pretentious manner that the man had used towards Peter was practically an invitation to get his neck snapped. Lucy was surprised it hadn't.

No one answered her. Susan was staring petulantly out at the sky, which had now taken on a somber grey color. Peter was licking the crumbs off of his fingers, which surprisingly, garnered no attention from his sister.

Lucy was a growing rather tired of being disregarded.

"Will someone _please _tell me what's going on?" she slammed her cup of tea on the table, rattling the plates and glasses. Peter and Susan stared, alarmed, at their younger sister. It was very out of character for someone as placid as Lucy to lose her temper, though the impatient fourteen-year-old in her would make itself known every once in a while.

The rigidness in Susan's body slackened a bit and she finally addressed the younger girl with a sigh.

"Lune thinks that Lorcan is growing more uh,_ disagreeable _towards our people."

The queen frowned. "What do you mean?"

It was Peter who answered this time. "He's been speaking up-or out, as Lune puts it-in council. The snobbish bloke's been acting more serious about his threats toward Narnia-'

"Which is exactly why we should be more cautious about this!" Susan cut across. "All these things going on by the Winding Arrow can't just be shrugged off as minor annoyances!"

"And they're not," Peter soothed. "Ed's down there right now, sorting things out. We've stationed soldiers, put out warnings, we're even letting our brother march into enemy territory to take the issue up with the Tisroc!"

Susan sighed and Peter reached over to pat her on the shoulder. "All that _can _be done, _is _being done. Besides, we've got the Ettins on our backs more than ever these days, and you know they don't wait their turn," he finished.

Lucy tilted her head in thought. "Peter's right, Susan. Lune's been struggling with his council for a while now and he has bigger problems than an egocentric Lord-"

"Isn't that always the problem?" Peter snorted.

Lucy ignored this. "And Edmund will straighten things out. He always does," she reassured.

Susan nodded, but she didn't look so reassured. That stormy look was back in her eyes, but this time, it didn't look so mixed up and confused. It was a hard glare, set in her deep blue eyes.

Wordlessly, she got up and left Peter's solar. As she departed, Peter watched her worriedly. Not long after, he followed her example and made some excuse about having to meet with Oreius about something. Within minutes, Lucy was alone, staring out onto the churning sea. The clouds had gone a nasty ash color and the gentle breeze had turned into a howling wind.

As Lucy got up to close the doors, she couldn't help but wonder something.

Was something more menacing than they thought brewing on the horizon? For the sake of Narnia and for the sake of her family, she could only hope not.


	2. The Gathering Storm

_**A/N: Hey again! If you're reading this, I want to thank you for sticking with my story. Reviews are welcome along with whatever constructive criticism you think is necessary. Enjoy!**_

**Disclaimer: All works belong to C.S. Lewis, the only things that belong to me are the situations and original characters. Everything else is NOT MINE.**

**Chapter Two: The Gathering Storm**

_**The birds sense the ominous power**_

_**And seek their nests in tree or on cliff**_

_**The trees bow their heads, all leaves atrembling**_

_**As the wind whips up the white crests until the sea is a froth of snow-maned horses**_

_**While overhead is a building sense of fury**_

_**The gathering of storm clouds is over the horizon**_

The Gathering Storm, Marilyn Shepperson

"I'm surprised, your grace, that you were unaware of the events prior to the disappearance of the young man. The young man, who, if I recall correctly, was last seen in the presence of a Narnian before _oddly _vanishing from the country. This cannot be a coincidence."

It couldn't have been a coincidence either, that Lord Lorcan suddenly decided to take part in a council meeting-meetings that he was usually "too busy" or "not feeling quite up to"-unless it involved something exciting. Exciting meaning not about who gets what land and angry servants who don't think they get paid enough to empty chamber pots or comb ladies' hair. No, this was much more compelling. Had it not been for his venerated bloodline, Lorcan would be standing in the stables, preaching to the boy who feeds his horse.

But no amount of absents or excuses could change his heritage. And until they could, the council, including King Lune, were forced to listen while he ranted on about ridiculous conspiracies and why he thought the castle should have blue drapes, as opposed to red. That is, when he decided to even show up.

However, Lorcan's favorite thing to complain about was Narnia, Narnians, or anything remotely relating to said country. Few people actually knew why he held them in contempt so readily, and if they really did know why, they weren't telling.

A popular opinion among the ladies in court was that it was because his first love had become enamored with a faun and left him for the Narnian, and that he had held a grudge ever since. Others said he was nervous about how much better Narnia's economy had been faring lately compared to Archenland's. That he was paranoid that the alliance of the two nations might become reminiscent of how it had been before the Golden Age. Meaning, Archenland was constantly under unknowing Narnia's thumb, like during the age of the Crumb Snatchers.

Although those who are wise know that hatred and refusal of acceptance is most commonly attributed to a thirst for revenge. But no one was really sure what-or who-he was avenging.

Lorcan had demanded that he had new information that just _had _to be presented to the Archenland council. It was apparently of _utmost _importance. Lorcan had been a bit agitated for the past few weeks about a company of Narnian soldiers and one of their kings, Edmund the Just, passing south through Archenland on a diplomatic mission to Calormene. The monarchs of Narnia had requested permission from King Lune to journey by horse/foot through Archenland rather than voyage by sea, as that would require more men and take longer. Not to mention possible delays caused by weather. King Lune had readily agreed to their appeal and King Edmund's company was in and out of Archenland in no time. This didn't stop Lorcan from launching a barrage of accusations at the King and his soldiers, though. According to Lorcan, everything that had gone amiss or even the slightest bit off was apparently the fault of the Northern dwellers.

Lately, the Calormene government had been getting more and more rigid when it came to "the heathens" coming close to or passing over their borders. This was due to the second black fever outbreak of the last two decades, which had wiped out nearly a third of the population and sent the rest fleeing from the coast, where the disease was most potent. The stricter border patrol served to keep foreigners, with their immunities to their own diseases, out and those trying to escape the epidemic, in. With such rapid depletion of population, the Tisroc's prime source of power was dwindling-the weak slaves that serve him and his court, and the most devoted to Tash who fled because they thought they were being punished by their oh-so-inexorable God.

Because of this, any daring Archenlanders who thought it would be fun to taunt the Calormene soldiers by hanging too far across the Winding Arrow River were either captured and dangled over the river as a warning to the others, or never heard from again. The aforementioned young man was one of these unfortunate people.

Not all victims were foolish daredevils, though. Families that had their homes by the river often fell prey to testy soldiers if they drifted too far. King Lune had sent soldiers to monitor the activity, but if someone crossed the river, they were on restricted territory. There was nothing the soldiers could do. This was the very reason King Edmund was taking a trip to Calormen. Though few Narnian citizens were involved in these "altercations", the Narnian monarchs thought it their duty to help Archenland in her time of need. They too had posted sentries up at the border to make sure their own people and Archenlanders alike were kept at a safe distance from harm.

Against the sovereigns' urging, some Narnians _had _taken it upon themselves to inspect the happenings at the border. Though most of the conflicts occurring by the river were between Archenlanders and Calormenes, a few _did _involve the Northerners. This, of course, was the perfect opportunity for Lorcan to pin the blame on his least favorite race of people.

These "events prior to the disappearance of the young man" Lorcan mentioned before were the scandals concocted by the Lord himself.

At this point, the council had had about enough of the assertive Lord's pompous opinion. Lorcan was standing in his seat with one hand clutching a handkerchief to his chest in an almost swooning gesture, and the other tucking a blonde lock behind his ear. The rest of the council-crabby, old men they may be, they still had earned their right to their seats, rather than bribe for them with a well known coat of arms-were trying their hardest to remain awake while Lorcan was repeating his same old mantra. Well, at least some of them. It was a good thing Sir Joffrey doesn't snore.

The man seated next to Lorcan had his head cradled in one hand and rubbed his temple with the other. He shifted to look up at Lorcan. "People disappear in that area all the time. The Winding Arrow River borders the Great Desert-and you know how Calormenes are about their territory and all," he yawned.

Someone behind them leaned forward and peaked around Lorcan to look him in the face. "The only reason you even care about the boy is because he was in contact with a Narnian. You didn't seem interested about the family that went missing last month. Come to think of it, were you even _at _that meeting?" he demanded.

Lorcan didn't seem to mind the accusations placed on him. He simply grasped the back of the bench and leaned sideways so that his profile was facing the man. With the hand that was clasping the handkerchief propped on his right hip, he pivoted his head down to the right so that it was obvious he was looking down-literally-on his fellow councilmember.

"My _dear, dear_ friend, don't you remember? I was occupied in assisting our companions in Telmar," almost everyone winced at this. "They were having some conflicts regarding some trade routes and the Narnians. Now I know Telmar and Archenland have not always seen eye to eye," there was a collective scoff and a few snorts at this. "But when we share a common threat such as the Narnians-"

"Threat?" King Lune, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, let out a bark. He was sitting at the center of the council room surrounded by the rest of the council seated in oak benches that lined the walls. There were intricate tapestries that depicted the history of Archenland that were stitched with shimmering threads in multiple colors. Porcelain beads hung from the edges that gave the illusion of sparkling like dew drops when the light from the stained glass windows hit them. The windows too were pieces of artwork with their elegant scheme, the very center window depicting the Archenland coat of arms. Though they were slightly fogged due to the humid weather, the mellow morning sunlight seeped into the room like slivers of gold.

It was clear the King wanted to be there just as much as Sir Joffrey, who was now drooling on the sleeve of his robes. The king had been reclined on his imitation throne, but was now bent forward, eyebrows furrowed, with a disdainful frown aimed at Lorcan.

Lorcan arched a brow. "Your Highness?"

"I am still not sure what your quarrel is with the Narnians, but whatever that might be, don't you think you're taking things a bit far? Collaborating with _Telmarines_ is one thing, but doing so simply out of spite for one of our most valuable allies is just outrageous," Lune huffed.

If Lorcan should have been intimidated by a reprimand from his King, he wasn't. He just turned back around to face Lune, his back supported by the bench. He cocked his head to the side and offered his king a crooked grin. "Surely your grace couldn't really believe I would behave so asininely when it came to diplomatic endeavors such as assisting a friendly fellow nation," Lorcan's words practically _dripped _with false innocence.

"Ha! I'm sure we all remember how _friendly _the Telmarines have been in the past. If they're such a 'companionable' bunch, then where were they during the White Witch's reign?" The man who had called Lorcan out before was halfway out of his seat, with an accusing glare pointed at him. Lorcan didn't turn around, but his smile wavered for an instant.

"Oh, that's right! They were kissing the Witch's feet and doing her dirty work while we were struggling to feed our families! All you do is make excuses for them Lorcan, when we all know you only favor them because of their animosity towards Narnians-"

"Lord Alain. That is quite enough," King Lune cut across the angry councilman with a stern look. Lord Alain twisted away from Lorcan's smug face to look at his King. He was now standing completely and was panting from rage. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut. At least _someone_ in King Lune's council knew how to behave in front of their king.

Lorcan sent Alain a vicious grin as the man sunk back into his seat. With his head bowed, Alain said, "Your majesty, I fear that _Lord _Lorcan will get us all in serious trouble one day, what with his affiliation with Telmarines and Calormenes and all," his voice was shaking, and his tone reproachful.

King Lune rubbed his thumb across his eyebrows in a weary gesture. "I fully understand the consequences of his impudent opinions, and if they continue to this extent," Lune looked at Lorcan levelly. "He will find that he has been looking the real enemy in the face for some time."

Lorcan frowned, but didn't speak.

The King continued. "As for the where the Telmarines loyalty lies, I think it best we not take any chances." Lord Alain smirked. "However, we must all admit that we had quite a few crumb snatchers on our own side. But that doesn't matter. Those days are over now," he finished, looking around the room. "Does anyone else have anything to say on the matter?" Everyone glanced around the room, waiting for an objection. When Lune was satisfied that there were none, he was about to adjourn the meeting, when he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Everyone's eyes went to Lorcan. He had finally sat back down, but his back was rigid. With a sly smile and a pernicious glint in his eyes, he spoke, "I still find myself surprised by how few of you share my suspicions when it comes to the safety of our people. The Narnians may have proved themselves useful in the past, but they _are not _people, they _are not _like us. They are after all, wild beasts. And if they are not like us, they cannot be trusted. I only hope you will all realize this before it is too late," Lorcan declared. His voice wasn't loud or boastful like it was before, but quiet and measured. But behind these words laid something foul, something dangerous. Though he spoke calmly, every person in the room could sense something brewing beneath the mild façade, like a gathering storm.

"Lorcan," King Lune implored. "I understand that you mean well for our people, but discriminating the Narnians because of our differences-why, that's almost primitive. The Narnians have posed no real threat since the beginning of the reign of the children of Adam and Eve." Everyone in the room was wound up like a spring. "We have _nothing_ to fear. Narnia and Archenland have been in strong alliance for Aslan knows how long!" The King was searching Lorcan's face, looking for any sign of submission.

All he got was a mournful sigh from Lorcan and a sharp, "We shall see. We shall see."

And it was there the storm amassed, with clouds as black as the anger and judgment in Lorcan's heart. Lord Lorcan had a plan, a plan with a potential just as volatile as the gathering storm that had settled overhead, and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.


	3. Dancing With the Flames

_**A/N: I really want to thank Lady Hannah for her lovely review, my first review! And to Athena Silverwolf for her support also! I want to apologize in advance for my lack of knowledge on Calormene culture…I'm kind of figuring things out as I go. Enjoy!**_

**Chapter 3: Dancing With the Flames**

_****_

Dancing with the flames  
a fiery gypsy's dance –  
Fire in our hearts, fire in the trees,  
fire on the sky…

Touched with fire  
we want to catch the flames...  
Dancing with the flames  
we feel the rainbow fire,

we feel the fire's warmth,  
we see the fiery lady  
dancing with the gypsys  
so magical, so dangerous…

We feel the breath of fire's world,  
we feel the spirit of the fire,  
we hear the rhapsody  
of the fire's wild flames… 

Dancing with Flames, Krystyna Maria Postawa

Did the Calormenes even _have _taste buds? Edmund decided they most definitely did not as he forced down another gulp of his drink with a cringe. He peered down at the milky substance in his mug with contempt. The man who had served it to him had called it _Arak*_, a popular Calormene beverage. He had given Edmund multiple empty mugs, a dish of ice, and a vessel of water without so much as a reason why, then told him to drink slowly.

Edmund just wanted something to soothe his nerves after his stressful dealings with the Tisroc. There was just about no where that he wanted to be less, aside from the Witch's castle maybe. Tashbaan was loud and smelly, with streets that smelled like sewage and dirt. Both of which it was filled with, by the way.

Technically, they weren't really _in _Tashbaan anymore, but Edmund wouldn't be satisfied until they were out of the country entirely.

Despite its hectic and somewhat unpleasant atmosphere, Tashbaan (and Calormen in general) did have its upsides. Edmund was sure he had never seen so many colors in one place. Women danced in flashy garments with skirts that twirled like a kaleidoscope in the light. The sun beat down relentlessly on men who swallowed swords by day and juggled fire by night. Vendors peddled their wares on the sidelines, shouting and haggling over gold-threaded burqas* and moist muskmelons. The savory scent of meat wafted from a stall with cuts of lamb strewn over the side on hooks, and rice spiced with saffron was enough to make your mouth water.

While it lacked the serenity of a Narnian forest or the elegance of Cair Paravel, Tashbaan did have its charms. However, Edmund found nothing "charming" about the monkey feces on his boots or the dirty little handprints of a child beggar on his tunic.

For whatever reason, the Calormenes flourished in the flaming sun that always seemed to engulf them. They spent their days beneath the dust-hazed sky while the sun shone off of their vibrant getups, making them look like dancing embers of flame.

Anyway, when Edmund asked the man to serve him something "calming", that didn't mean he wanted to ingest iced poison. The _Arak _wasn't really that bad, but it was nothing compared to the Dwarves' crisp pale lager or the fauns' sweet wine. It tasted like the black liquorice that Lucy had brought back from her last trip to Galma. Edmund was also sure he detected a hint of salty plums in the mix. The bartender had called it "the milk of the lions," but the Just King couldn't see how Aslan could ever approve of such a horrid delicacy.

Anyone with sense could tell Edmund would rather be anywhere but there. "There" was a shabby little bar type place, the equivalent of a tavern up north. He could never remember what they called it in Calormen.

Edmund and his modestly sized group of soldiers were crowded around a long table, all sitting uncomfortably in the wooden chairs. They were receiving an ample number of nasty looks from the other patrons in the bar. The owner was glaring at them, waiting for them to leave and stop making his customers feel unsettled. The Calormenes had never been quite what you'd call "hospitable" towards outsiders, especially Narnians, but ever since the closing off of the borders, they had grown used to seeing little to no visitors in their territory. Other than the roaming merchants and the sort, of course. Tashbaan couldn't thrive the way it did without its vast range of foreign produce and goods.

Edmund had a feeling that he and his soldiers weren't the most welcomed group in Calormen.

They were almost out of Calormen and into Archenland-to their relief-but Edmund had decided they should stop for a much deserved rest. A decision he was regretting more and more by the minute.

Besides the sneers and glares, the little band had attracted quite a few rude comments. One fellow had leaned over his table to point a crooked finger at them. In a strange accent he spat, "Going to a ball, heathen?" He gestured towards Edmund's drink.

Instead of replying, Edmund looked down at his beverage and wondered if the bartender had served him such an evil concoction on purpose. It certainly didn't look like the Jasmine Tea or _Sira_* everyone else was drinking. He simply shrugged and took a chug of his _Arak_, earning a disgusted grunt from the Calormene. He tried not to cringe when the bitter substance hit his tongue, but couldn't help but shudder at the taste. No matter how much he drank, it still tasted like the medicine his Mum used to give him when he had a cough.

It was strange how Edmund could remember some things before Narnia, but not others. He could recall vague images and sounds-or in this case, tastes-of his old home, but most of it still felt like missing puzzle pieces that kept falling out with age.

Deciding that he had consumed enough of Calormen's beverages to last him a lifetime, Edmund took one last reluctant gulp of his _Arak_. He held the wooden tankard to his head in an attempt to cool his body's rapidly rising temperature. Summer had come to a hasty end, but no one had seemed to have told this to Calormen. Although it was almost halfway through September, the southernmost country was as stifling as ever.

Its residents, of course, were used to this type of weather. A woman with black robes covering her entire body was fanning herself lazily with a glossy handkerchief. The cloth depicted a malevolent bird-like creature threaded in violet gossamer. How this could have _possibly _helped, Edmund had no clue. The heavy stench of sweat and jasmine perfume overwhelmed the whole bar, and the sweet and spicy aromas of the various teas and oils made him want to gag. The entire atmosphere was sweltering, and the wood of his tankard did little to cool his northern-adjusted body.

Looking to his right, he noticed one of his guards-a faun, Andreas-had abandoned his own condensation-covered glass. Though empty, the remaining ice caused little drops of water to weep down the sides. Without a second thought, Edmund snatched up the glass and held it to his sweaty skin, allowing the water to slide down his face in steady rivulets. Andreas didn't seem to mind. The faun simply watched his King in sympathy as he slicked his face with the cool liquid. Edmund reclined back in his stiff chair with his eyes closed and sighed in relief, content in this one appeasement. His jaw slackened and his mouth tipped open at the corner while he breathed steadily through the space between his lips.

Edmund should have known it wouldn't last long. He was startled out of his peaceful spell by a hot gust of air in his face that burned his exposed throat. With a grunt of displeasure, Edmund snapped his eyes open and lurched his neck forward to look at the offender.

Though they were seated in a somewhat secluded alcove of the bar, a burst of the dry southern air had managed to perforate all throughout the place, striking all the patrons in the face like slap. Everyone looked up to see that the door had swung wide open, letting in the blinding light of the sun along with its heat. The strangely clothed woman started to furiously fan herself with the handkerchief and the rude Calormene took a swig of his drink with a disdainful look. Over the threshold stepped a man in a dark, hooded cloak. Except unlike the woman, he looked entirely unaffected by his choice of outfit. With his cloak brushing his ankles, the man glided over the far corner of the bar, diagonal to where Edmund was sitting. Everyone watched him warily.

He pulled off his hood, earning a few gasps of surprise. Though Edmund couldn't see his face, he could tell by the pale stretch of skin on the back of the man's neck that he clearly wasn't Calormene, and he wasn't tanned like an Islander. The onyx-black hair was nothing akin to the sandy shade attributed to the Archenlanders, and his height and stature marked him decidedly human. That could only mean one thing.

Now, it wasn't exactly unusual to see a Telmarine _outside _of Telmar, but to see one past the Western Wild, let alone in the south was rather absurd.Perhaps it was the way he walked, as if he were roaming freely in his home territory, rather than a crowded Calormene joint. All eyes were on him as he pulled a piece of parchment and a nail from his robes. He held the parchment up to the wall and tacked it in place with the nail. It looked like a public notice of some sort, with words formed in black ink stained on the surface. As he stepped back to observe his handiwork, those closest peered forward to try and read what it said without having to actually approach the stranger. Nodding, satisfied, he pulled his cloak back over his head and swept from the establishment dramatically.

Almost immediately after, at least five people leapt from their seats to inspect. The man closest to what Edmund assumed was a notice, scanned it quickly before standing back with a smirk. He strode back to his table with his arms crossed smugly and began to relay the message to his comrades. Instead of listening in, Edmund watched the rest of the people with a frown. It seemed that many of them had found whatever they read to their liking, and were laughing amongst themselves in disdain. This worried him greatly.

Just as he was about to go inspect for himself, a fair-haired youth stepped through the little throng of Calormenes. In contrast to those around him, he found the message upsetting. With a sharp intake of breath, he spun his head around to glare angrily at the Calormenes. When he realized no one was paying him any attention, he hastily made for the door, hoping to see where the mysterious stranger had gone. Judging by the dejected expression on his face, the boy had no such luck.

Edmund's soldiers looked at him warily, waiting to see if their King would approach the Calormenes, but the Narnian himself was watching the young man with interest. Marching back to where the buzzing crowd had assembled, the sandy haired boy shoved through them and ripped the message off the wall. The nail ripped through parchment loudly and everyone stopped their chatter to stare at him.

He held the paper above his head and glared pointedly at the people that surrounded him.

"Is this really what you want? To close yourselves off completely over some stupid prejudice? To shun these innocent people for some "crimes" they never committed?"

No said anything. Some looked at him in shock, others suspiciously. Edmund suddenly wished he had gone to look at the notice as he watched as the boy crumpled up the paper in his fist and threw it to the ground. There were gasps all around as he began to storm away. He didn't get very far, though, because a Calormene man reached forward and yanked the boy back by his collar.

"How _dare _you disrespect an order from the Tisroc like that! You will pay, filthy heathen!" He pulled a gleaming, curved dagger from his robes and raised above the boy's throat. Edmund quickly moved to stop him, but the situation seemed to resolve itself. The bartender pulled the boy away by the scruff of his neck and held him there like a kitten.

With one hand held out to calm his fuming customer, he said, "This boy obviously doesn't know any better than to act like the pagan he is-" He was cut off by his captive's protests, but a quick yank of the hair created silence once more. Edmund could tell that the boy was using all his willpower not to fight back, but knew that he was not in a position to do anything of the sort.

Shoving him towards the door, the bartender looked him in the eye and held a finger to his face menacingly. "If you don't watch your tongue boy, you'll get as much mercy as the barbarians you're defending, you understand?"

The boy huffed in reply and stalked out into the hot midday sun. The bartender lowered his arm and shook his head, returning to his post.

"Alright, alright, that's all the excitement you're going to get for today. Everyone needs to calm down," he declared, picking up a glass and wiping it with a rag.

There was a mutual agreement with his words as the bar patrons sat back down and resumed their regular lazing about and such.

Trying not to draw attention to himself, Edmund lifted himself up from his seat and went over to retrieve the abandoned piece of parchment. For such a big fuss to cause over its "defiling," the Calormenes didn't seem to mind leaving it on the grimy floor.

Shaking his head, the king unfolded the paper and smoothed out the wrinkles. The Tisroc's seal gleamed beneath Edmund's thumb-the ruler sure did love to show off-but Edmund was focused on the swirling black script above it. The growing unease that had sat in his stomach was becoming heavier as he skimmed the page, catching little phrases and fragments here and there-

"_His majesty, the Tisroc-O may he live forever-hereby does proclaim-"_

"_-Any Narnian or supporter of such nation and/or their breed-"_

"_-immediate termination, deportation, or subordination by the hand of the Calormene law and monarchy-"_

"_-if unlawfully trespassing upon Calormene soil-"_

"_-such abominations will be removed on sight from our holy land-"_

"_-punishment for their horrid crimes shall be dealt as the Tisroc-O may he live forever-sees fit"_

At this point, Edmund could feel the rubbery seal pushing into his thumb heavily, causing pins and needles to jolt up his arm. Biting his lip, he vaguely noticed his soldiers approaching him from behind.

"Your majesty?" Andreas questioned nervously.

Without turning around or speaking, Edmund held the parchment out behind him as an offering. Andreas took it slowly, still watching his king. When he glanced down to read, so did about seven other pairs of eyes. All the soldiers crowded over one another to get a glimpse of the little thing that caused so much fuss.

Edmund could feel their wary looks on his back as Andreas lowered the parchment. He ignored them and strode back to the table, throwing his cloak of his shoulders.

His comrades stared at him confusedly, to which he turned and said, "That boy-" disregarding the fact that "that boy" was probably quite a few years older than him, "-is going out there to get in Aslan knows what kind of trouble. If he's going after that man working for the Tisroc, than he shouldn't face him alone.

Maybe if I can locate his trail, I'll get to the bottom of this whole "Narnian free nation" farce. Besides, I want to know what an Archenlander-at least I assume he's an Archenlander-is doing alone in Calormene. Especially now."

After exchanging a few nervous looks, the little party began collecting themselves for what they expected was going to be an interesting experience. That is, until Edmund dismissed them with a wave of the hand.

"No need. I plan on making this journey on my own," he announced casually.

A badger next to Andreas spoke up. "But your grace, it's unimaginably dangerous out there! High King Peter sent us specifically with you to ensure your safety!"

"If you, a _king of Narnia _were found roaming around outside of Tashbaan, who knows what could happen?" A dog chimed in.

Edmund again waved them off. "I'll be fine. If the boy went farther than a few miles I'll turn back and send a scout out for him when we return home. But for now, this problem isn't just going to disappear. I have to find out more," he replied, trying to mollify them.

And with that, the king took one last begrudging gulp of his _Arak _and headed out into the blistering noonday sun. As he braced himself for the sting of sweat, he wondered if it was the heat that made the Calormenes so smoldering.

_**A/N: I really hope you enjoyed and continue to read! Here are some explanations for the beverages/clothes I mentioned in this chapter in case you were curious.**_

**Arak **-an alcoholic spirit from the anis drinks family. It is a clear, colorless, unsweetened anise-flavored distilled alcoholic drink. It is the traditional alcoholic beverage in Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan, and Israel.

**Şira or sira **-a Turkish non-alcoholic drink made from slightly fermented grape juice

**Burqa **-an enveloping outer garment worn by women in some Islamic traditions to cover their bodies when in public.


	4. The Slave and the Lion

_**A/N: I want to thank Green and Lady Hannah for their amazing reviews. You guys really make me want to keep going! A few kind of small yet important details in this one, but they should be further explained later on. I would love a review or a follow and as always, enjoy!**_

***PLEASE READ***

_**By the way, I was thinking about the question Lady Hannah asked about how wouldn't Edmund and his entourage by considered trespassers. I wasn't very clear about that, and I apologize. To clear things up, I briefly mentioned in Chapter two (I switched one and two) that the Tisroc had given them expressed permission to traverse through Calormen, but I was pretty vague about it. I kind of imagine the Calormenes in my head as people who would know that they were in the presence of Narnian royalty, but wouldn't give them much recognition. I liked the idea that they would sit there and celebrate a "Narnian-Free Nation," when the King of Narnia himself was sitting right there. There will be some conflict regarding that in the future, though. Sorry for the mix up, I hope that answers some questions.**_

**Chapter 4: The Slave and the Lion**

_**Aesop**_

_A slave named Androcles ran away from his master, by whom he had been most cruelly treated, and, in order to avoid capture, betook himself into the desert. As he wandered about in search of food and shelter, he came to a cave, which he entered and found to by unoccupied. Really, however, it was a lion's den, and almost immediately, to the horror of the wretched fugitive, the lion himself appeared. The man gave himself up for lost. But, to his utter astonishment, the lion, instead of springing upon him, came and fawned upon him, at the same time whining and lifting up his paw. Observing it to be much swollen and inflamed, Androcles examined it and found a large thorn embedded in the ball of the foot. He accordingly removed it and dressed the wound as well as he could. And in course of time it healed up completely._

_The lion's gratitude was unbounded. He looked upon the man as his friend, and they shared the cave for some time together. A day came, however, when the slave began to long for the society of his follow men, and he bade farewell to the lion and returned to the town. Here he was presently recognized and carried off in chains to his former master, who resolved to make an example of him, and ordered that he should be thrown to the beasts at the next public spectacle in the theater._

_On the fatal day the beasts were loosed into the arena, and among the rest a lion of huge bulk and ferocious aspect. And then the wretched slave was cast in among them. What was the amazement of the spectators, when the lion after one glance bounded up to Androcles and lay down at his feet with every expression of affection and delight! It was his old friend of the cave! The audience clamored that the slave's life should be spared. And the governor of the town, marveling at such gratitude and fidelity in a beast, decreed that both should receive their liberty._

It didn't take Edmund long to regret not bringing a tracker with him. It seemed no matter where you went in Calormen, there would always be sand. Sand and sweat and sun. It had been a while since he had last gone trekking in the Calormen heat-though you could hardly call this "trekking"-and had forgotten how unpleasant it was. Of course then he had been covered head to toe in armor that weighed more than he did himself and was being pursued by a dozen angry men.

But that's a different story entirely.

The pub had sat on a little road that wove through a village and continued on for about half a mile. Edmund had stuck to it for some time, glancing in the small establishments that lined the path occasionally, though all he had found so far were glares and spat curses. No sign of the boy.

Eventually the road had faded off into an endless expanse of desert, as if whoever had paved it decided that persisting any farther was pointless. And at the moment, the King couldn't agree more.

Spying a lone rock sitting idle in the sand, Edmund trudged over to lean against it and sighed. He removed his boot and beat it against the rock, attempting to remove some of the sand that was caked to the bottom of it while balancing on one foot. For an instant, Edmund was sure he had seen a speck of black in the corner of his eye. When he looked up, it was gone. When the odd sighting didn't make a reappearance, he just shrugged and went back to his task.

Realizing that the sand wasn't going to relent, he groaned and dropped the boot to the ground. This action sent a flurry of sand clouding into his eyes, making him lose his balance. He placed his foot back on the ground to steady himself, only to feel the hot sand burning his bare skin. Hissing, he leapt back onto one foot and once again grabbed hold of the rock. This was not one of his better days.

Edmund had slipped his shoe back on and was beginning to tie the laces when he heard something in the distance. The sound echoed throughout the arid range and his head snapped up. What was it? A coyote? A hyena? It had taken a frightening experience, a fearsome animal, and a scar for it finally to sink in for Edmund that not all animals were as friendly as the talking ones in Narnia.

He slowly lowered his foot and slumped behind the rock, ears perked for another noise.

After being rooted there for a few good minutes, Edmund decided that whatever it was, it was gone. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and pushed himself up with his palms against the blistering ground. He was halfway to his feet when he heard another sound, this one markedly more distinct. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.

Edmund immediately slid back to the ground and twisted around, hand braced against the rock, listening attentively. He tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps and instinctively reached for the dagger strapped to his belt. He could just make out voices nearby:

"…they find us? What if they find _me_? Cian, are you sure this is a good idea?" It was definitely a girl's voice. It was whiny, but laced with genuine fear. _Cian?_ Where had he heard that name before?

"Cian knows what he's doing. Don't you?" This voice was male, but not much deeper than the last. It cracked with the telltale signs of puberty.

Edmund's heart beat rapidly as the steps drew nearer. This must've been what he'd seen before.

"Oh ye of little faith. We got _in _alright, didn't we? Don't worry, we'll be back to Stormness in no time at all. Right, Cian?" asked a man with a strong Calormene accent.

Cian himself had yet to say a word. All of a sudden the footsteps silenced a few yards away from Edmund's hiding place. He tensed, sure that he had been discovered.

"Cian?" The girl spoke again. Her voice was light and airy, each word flowing together like a song.

"N-nothing," said a rumbling, somewhat raspy voice. Edmund could imagine a man shaking his head. "Just thought I heard something," he replied uncertainly.

The party of what Edmund assumed was about four continued forward towards him and his heart shot to his throat. Waiting until the footsteps sounded in the right place, he hastily crawled to the other side of the rock and waited. Now that he thought about it, this was a rather odd place for a rock to be. Of course now was not the time to be thinking such things.

When the steps began to fade he breathed a sigh of relief and sat his forehead against the rock. Of course, whenever Edmund thought something was over, it never was.

"Wait! I dropped it!" the young boy cried. The footsteps stopped.

"Dropped what?" the Calormene man asked.

"The pin. The pin that Androcles bought me in the market!" Edmund heard a scoff.

"What, that piece of tourist trash? You don't need that. You've got _plenty _of junk at home," the girl sneered. She didn't sound so musical anymore.

"Shut up, 'Lina. What do you know about quality? You're the one who bought that rubbish necklace. You do know that the pearls are fake, don't you?" Edmund gasped. It was the fair-haired boy from the pub. Did this mean he never went after the strange man?

"You're such a liar, Adrocles-"

"Aurelina, Adrocles. For Aslan's sake, hush! Someone will hear you two," Cian reprimanded.

"Cade, when did you last have it with you?" he continued.

There was a sniff. "J-just now. I took it out of my pocket, it was just so nice to look at-"

"Nice going, genius," Aurelina said snidely. Cian ignored her, but Edmund imagined with a bit of amusement the little boy sticking his tongue out at her.

"Well when did you last _know _you had it?"

"Just now! I swear, if you let me look-"

"Cade, be reasonable. We're in the middle of nowhere. If it's gone, it's gone. You're not going to find it," Aurelina declared.

"Cian, please!" the boy pleaded. There was a moment of silence.

"I'll go with him. He couldn't have dropped it that long ago. I saw him messing with it about a quarter mile back. We won't go far," the fair haired boy (or Androcles, as he was apparently called) reasoned.

Cian sighed audibly before the Calormene man spoke again. Edmund had almost forgotten he was there.

"We've still got time before the patrol shifts. It can't hurt to let them look," he offered.

Cian sighed again. "Alright. But don't go any farther than-"

"We won't, don't worry," Adrocles promised, but light footsteps were coming Edmund's way before he even finished his sentence.

"Come _on, _Andy. I think I saw something in the sand over here. Help me look," Cade urged him.

The young man laughed, causing Edmund's heart to race once more. They were walking in his direction. He dared to peek over the rock in the direction of the voices. He saw the tall, sandy haired boy that he had encountered earlier bent over, holding his knees and examining the ground.

"Are you sure you saw it over here? I thought you would have dropped it farther back."

"I'm sure. I would have noticed it sooner if I had," replied a tan skinned boy who couldn't have been older than eleven or twelve. The sun made his chestnut-brown hair shine.

Taking the opportunity that their companions were hopefully focused on the two boys instead of _him, _Edmund stole a glance at them. What he saw jolted him to the core.

Standing amidst the golden sand was the strangest trio he'd ever seen. A tall, broad shouldered Calormene man, a petite, dryad-looking girl, and a Red Fox with grey lining his snout. What were they doing here? Forget that, what were they doing _together?_

The Calormene was tall and buff looking. He had multiple packs slung over his shoulder and pouches of coins jangled at his side. He was talking amiably with the Fox who Edmund assumed was Cian.

"Did you find it yet?" the girl demanded impatiently. Edmund couldn't decide if she was human or not. She was the size of a human girl, but possessed some other-worldly presence. She was thin and limber looking, but couldn't have been much taller than the younger boy. What really startled the king was that beneath her loose caramel locks was a green-tinged complexion, the color of tree sap.

"No," Cade replied sourly. Aurelina didn't respond beyond an over-expressive sigh and a flip of her long hair. The Calormene man rolled his eyes.

Edmund reluctantly tore his eyes from the girl to look back at the boys. He was alarmed to find that they had come almost ten yards closer. How could he have been so distracted?

They were close enough now for Edmund to see that the younger boy had sparkling, hazel eyes-the mark of a Galmanian. _What a strange assortment of people_, he couldn't help but think. A Galmanian, an Archenlander, a dryad, a Calormene, and a red fox who Edmund could've sworn he knew from somewhere.

Cade looked up suddenly and Edmund shot back down behind the rock. He counted to fifty then peered back over at them. They had their backs turned to him now, and were speaking in hushed tones. Edmund could hear them, and judging by the way his ears perked forward, so could Cian.

"Did they really order all Narnians out? Can they even do that?" Cade whispered.

"They can if they have the Tisroc on their side," Androcles replied.

"Wait, who's 'they?' I thought the Tisroc was the only one causing all this," he asked confusedly.

"That's what I thought too. But the more that I think about it, I'm starting to wonder if it's not just the Calormenes that are in on this little stunt." Androcles started when he saw something glitter in the sand, but sighed when he realized it was just a trick of the light.

"Who else would do this? I thought the Calormenes were the only ones that didn't like the Narnians." The two began to wander past Edmund whose legs were starting to cramp. As they moved on, he strained to hear them.

"Apparently some of King Lune's subjects have become a bit…restless," Androcles replied hesitantly, not sure how to word his answer.

Edmund could almost see Cade's frown through the back of his head.

"Restless? How?" he asked. There was a pause.

"Remember that banquet father took us to a couple years ago?" So they were brothers? They sure didn't look like it. Then again, he was one to talk about family resemblances.

Cade tugged at his collar at the memory. "The one where we had to wear those itchy clothes and use all those forks? Yeah, I remember," he replied.

"And we had to sit across from that annoying guy that kept complaining that about the fruit tarts?"

Cade narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. So?"

"I think it's him. I think he's mad about something and is taking it out on the Narnians. I heard Cian and Maud talking about him the last time she visited Stormness. He wants revenge for something," Adrocles answered reproachfully.

"What for? What could the Narnians have done to deserve _this?_" It seemed Cade had forgotten all about the pin and was absorbed in what his brother was telling him.

Adrocles shook his head. "I don't know, Cade. I don't know." He sat back in the sand and threw his hands up in defeat.

"I don't know where your pin could be. I'll buy you another one the next time we come. Maybe Cian will let you come with us again," he offered, trying to cheer Cade up. But Cade didn't seem that concerned about his missing belonging at the moment.

"But who is he? I mean, who is he _really?_"

Androcles looked Cade in the eye and opened his mouth to answer, "An Archenlandish lord, Lord L-"

"Oh for Aslan's sake, Cade. Have you checked _your back pocket?_" Aurelina interrupted. She had glided over in their direction almost soundlessly and for a moment Edmund was afraid she would spot him. But she was too focused on the two boys digging around in the sand the pay him any heed.

Cade reached into his back pocket and sheepishly pulled out a bird shaped pin. Aurelina threw her head back and groaned in exasperation. He looked back to Androcles who just smiled weakly and offered him a hand up. Taking it, the two brushed sand off of their trousers and tunics and headed back over to their party who was waiting not too far off.

Edmund had forgotten that he wasn't the only one eavesdropping. Cian looked at the boys with a troubled expression, but didn't say anything. The nameless Calormene helped Cade fasten the pin back onto his tunic and genially told him not to "lose" it again. Cade just shrugged his shoulders bashfully and fell back into step with his brother. The dryad trailed close behind, twirling a finger in her hair and shaking her head, looking truly agitated. Cian and the tall man took the lead.

Edmund watched them go in awe. This was not at all what he was expecting when he chose to pursue Androcles. So many questions swirled inside his head. What were they doing here? Why were these so very different people traveling together? Where had they been staying?

But more importantly, where were they going? The boy, Androcles, already demonstrated some knowledge on the mystery Edmund was trying to solve. And it was obvious Cian knew something on the matter, but wasn't telling. But there it was again. That feeling that Edmund had heard or seen that name before. He would have to look into that when he returned home.

The Calormene-Edmund really wished he had caught his name-and Androcles had both said something about Stormness. Did he mean Stormness Pass all the way up by the Narnia/Archenland border? He must've, but what would anyone be doing there?

Edmund had to admit he was a little disappointed. Some general information had been supplied, maybe enough to get a sufficient lead. Yet he had hoped he would be able to make _direct _contact with whoever had apparently been plotting with the Tisroc. But he guessed it wasn't exactly _rational _to face a volatile enemy almost completely unarmed. He had abandoned a majority of his weapons with his soldiers-who he had also left behind at the pub.

Susan's voice echoed in his head, "_The problem with you isn't WHAT_ _you were thinking, but that you WEREN'T." _Edmund couldn't count the number of times he and Peter had received long-winded lectures from Susan. Then again, they were often being patched up by Lucy at the same time. Maybe it was best to listen to Susan, just this once. Or at least the Susan in his head…

He really needed to get out of the sun.

The king sighed, his muscles achy and sore from being slumped against the rock for so long. He moved to lift himself up again, and this time, it seemed no one was going to stop him. But of course, he was completely off about that, _too._

As Edmund held onto the rock, he felt a little shallow cavity on the surface. When he looked down, he saw that someone had carved letters into the side. Strangely, he hadn't noticed them before. Turning to kneel before the rock, he saw that they weren't just letters, but initials. "AA" it read. They had been done with a shaky hand, like someone couldn't quite see what they were doing. Edmund couldn't blame them, it was impossible to see anything with this sun shining in your eyes.

He didn't have time to mull over these things, though. He needed to get back. His soldiers must have been going out of their minds with worry for him.

The answers were out there, this Edmund was sure of. He just needed to find them.

He turned to head back to the village, but was stopped by the sound of _more _voices. For a desert, the place wasn't all that deserted.

Had they come back? The boy couldn't have lost the pin again. When he looked towards the source of the noise, what he saw was not the strange people.

It was about ten angry looking border guards, and they were headed straight for him. Maybe this trip to Calormen wouldn't be so different from the last.

Edmund did what any brave soldier would do. He ran for his life.

_**A/N: And it gets slightly more interesting, I suppose. There'll be a bit more action in the next chapter. I'm better at doing thoughts and emotions as opposed to dialogue and action. But I'll never get better if I don't try, right? I hope you're all concerned about poor Edmund! He's already had a rough day and I can promise you it'll get worse. I almost feel bad. Almost.**_

_**I'd really appreciate your feedback on this story so I can get better. I hope you enjoyed and continue to in the future!**_


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